Sweet Valley University: Thriller Edition 20
by Lady Asia
Summary: The Murder Game at Sweet Valley University has begun. Playing is optional. Dying is possible. Suspicion is compulsory.
1. Chapter 1

Jessica Wakefield brushed her spun-gold hair back from her face and lifted her chin in the mirror. Narrowing her eyes, she scrutinized a spot on her chin. She scrubbed at it fiercely, and then stepped back, throwing herself on her twin sister's bed.

"It's no use, Lizzie!" she wailed, kicking her feet up in distress. "I'm an absolute mess. Nothing can save me. You should just go to this party without me. It's probably for the best." With a mournful sigh, she turned on her stomach and buried her head in the immaculately made bedspread.

Elizabeth looked up from her position at her desk. Seeing that Jessica was wrinkling her bed, she scrunched up a piece of paper and tossed it at her head. Jessica swatted it away.

"Must you kick me while I'm down?" she mewed pitifully.

"I apologize," Elizabeth said dryly. "Now may I ask why you're so depressed?"

With surprising energy, Jessica shot up into a sitting position. "Be-_ca-aause_," she said. "I've worn everything in my closet at least one hundred and thirty seven times. And I can't afford anything new because I have to pay Lila back for the money she leant me when we went shopping last time."

"Can't you just borrow something of Lila's?" Elizabeth asked.

"I would, but she's so fussy about her clothes," Jessica whined. "Honestly. I spilt a tiny bit of seafood sauce on _one_ blouse and I'm banned from ever wearing her clothes again!"

"She wouldn't even notice if you just went to her room and stole half her wardrobe," Elizabeth mused. "I bet she hasn't even worn much of it."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "It's a bit more difficult to break into her place now," she reminded Elizabeth. "She doesn't live on campus anymore, remember? Her and Bruce finally bought that beach-house."

Elizabeth tapped her pen against her notepad. "That's right. What a waste of money."

Jessica looked shocked. "Liz! How can you even _think_ it would be a waste? I ..."

Elizabeth tuned out as she stared at her sister. They were mirror images, but those who knew them could tell a thousand stories swearing that the two were nothing alike. While Elizabeth regarded a good night to be sitting back in her room with a good book, or at the movies with her best friend Nina Harper, Jessica couldn't think of anything more boring. While Elizabeth was at university for her education, Jessica was there for the fun, freedom, and most of all, boys. Her weekends and her weekdays were spent at her sorority house, at the movies, bars, clubs and anywhere else she fancied. Studying never seemed to be an issue for her, while Elizabeth prided herself on her excellent academics and her enormous contribution to the university publication.

She felt a rush of affection for her sister. They might be two very different young women, but they had been through a lot together ever since they moved out of their home and began university. Elizabeth recalled with a shudder the attempts on her life by William White, Jessica's assault from jaded footballer James Montgomery, and the up and down relationships she and her sister had experienced. She thought back to Todd Wilkins, her long-time high-school sweetheart, and Tom Watts, her first real relationship since she'd arrived on campus. Of course, there had been a couple of disastrous dates... Scott Sinclair, Finn Robinson... and finally...

"... and she's even got her own steam room!" Jessica finished, throwing her hands up in the air. "I would _kill_ to own a beach-house."

Elizabeth spread her hands out wide. "Hey, our little complex isn't too bad, is it?"

They both looked around fondly at their duplex, off-campus place they shared with Nina Harper, Neil Martin, Jessica's homosexual best friend, and Sam Burgess, the dirty slacker who they had met on a cross-country road trip for a television show. Jessica nodded, pretending to be resigned. "It's not much, but it's home!"

A stereo blasted to life downstairs, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Although there are a couple of things I wouldn't mind changing," she muttered, pushing back from her desk and standing to stretch.

Jessica clapped her hands over ears dramatically. "I wish Sam had moved out to a beach-house," she grumbled.

Elizabeth didn't respond, instead biting her lip and crossing the floor to her wardrobe. Her sister still had no idea that she had shared quite a few steamy kisses with Sam Burgess, and Elizabeth intended to keep it that way. Jessica's evident distaste for the good-looking slacker was enough of an indication that Elizabeth should be staying away from him. "Well, we better get dressed, I guess."

Jessica bounded out of the door, calling over her shoulder, "If you find something hot, tell me!"

Elizabeth slowly, mechanically, sorted through her clothes. She had a couple of nice party dresses, but they were nothing compared to the bursting-at-the-seams wardrobe Jessica boasted. Nothing seemed right for the party they had both planned on attending that night.

She headed for the door, and padded across the carpet towards Jessica's room, which was wide open. Jessica was looking at herself in her full-length mirror, holding a bright turquoise dress against her body.

"I wore this at our Theta rush party a couple of months ago," she said animatedly. "But I'm not sure whether anyone would remember it. Of course, there were pictures taken..." her voice drifted off, and she tossed the dress back onto a growing pile on her bed. "No. Back to closet it goes."

"I think you mean back to the rubbish heap," Elizabeth corrected her, automatically reaching for the dress and heading towards the closet to hang it up. "This place is a tip, Jess."

Jess ignored her, reaching for the next thing in her closet. She slipped a peach-coloured skirt from its' hanger, and held it lovingly against her. "Peach washes me out," she complained, throwing it back. "I may as well throw everything I own away."

Elizabeth sighed, and rummaged through the closet. She extracted a beautiful geometric-print dress, which had long sleeves and hit around mid-thigh. "Is this new?"

Jessica barely glanced at it. "Kind of. I borrowed it from Denise Waters. I think she bought it a couple of weeks ago, but it didn't fit her. You can wear it if you like," she added generously.

Elizabeth pulled it off the hanger. "I think I might. I've got a pair of shoes that will go great with it."

"You can pay me back by lending me those slingbacks you bought for New Years," Jessica said triumphantly, pulling out her dress of choice. It was a gauzy black dress, with a tight fitted bodice and a short, flippy skirt. "I wore this on a date with Cameron Haze a couple of months ago. He took me to some foreign movie at the Cineplex. Thank God no one saw me."

She slammed the door shut and shimmied into the dress, admiring herself from different angles. "That was easier than I thought!"

Elizabeth eyed the mess she had made. "Cleaning it up might be a little harder."

Jessica flapped her hand at her twin. "Don't rain on my parade. We're going to look fantastic, Lizzie."

Elizabeth slipped on the dress, almost baulking when she saw how short it was. "This is practically a shirt," she complained. "I'm taking it off. It isn't me."

Jessica raised her hand. "If you take that off, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions. Come on. We don't want to be late, do we?"

Elizabeth giggled, picking up a matching black purse. "Jessica Wakefield, worried about being late?"

Jessica laughed, her eyes twinkling. "I guess my curiosity has gotten the better of me. Randy Mason drops off the face of the planet, and then suddenly decides to throw some big party and hires out the Student Centre? Something has to be up."

"Maybe he's had another makeover," Elizabeth suggested, linking arms with her sister as they walked downstairs.

"I think one makeover is enough for a lifetime," Jessica surmised, and Elizabeth knew she was remembering the time she had dated Randy after he had arrived at university, minus the glasses, puppy fat and high-waisted beige pants.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure we'll have a good time," Elizabeth replied. She grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter and shouted, "Sam! Nina! We're going now!" Neil was working late and would meet them at the Student Centre afterwards.

"I'll be there later!" Nina yelled back from her room. Elizabeth waited for a response from Sam, but it didn't come.

"Sam!" Jessica tried again. "Do you want a lift to the Centre or what?"

No response.

"Sam!" Elizabeth hollered at the top of her lungs.

Sam's head popped up from the couch, his hair messily spiked and his eyes droopy. "No need to yell," he retorted drearily.

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "We're leaving now. Do you want a lift or not?"

Sam sat up a little straighter, and his eyes widened as if he was seeing Elizabeth for the first time. "No," he managed. Coughing slightly, he adopted his too-cool attitude. "If I go out, I'll get there myself."

Jessica spun on her heel. "Whatever." She stalked out. "Coming, Liz?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth said softly, her gaze still locked on Sam. "See you later."

She felt Sam's eyes on her as she walked out, and with the ghost of a smile on her lips, she swung her hips slightly. Maybe tonight would be the night that he finally got his act together. Maybe tonight would be the night that they became an official couple.

She caught sight of her reflection in her car window as she went to unlock it. Her hair was tousled, and she quickly ran her hand through it. She wore only a hint of mascara and eyeliner, and a plum lipgloss. Needless to say, she thought she looked pretty good for someone who had spent less than ten minutes on her appearance.

Maybe tonight would be the start of something different.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexandra Rollins smacked her lips together and blotted them with a tissue. She dropped it onto the bathroom counter and leant forward to admire herself. "You're not half bad, Rollins," she said to herself gleefully. "Not bad at all."

It was still a kick to see how much she'd changed, even though she'd been beautiful, popular Alexandra for a while now. College had been the start of something new, and Alexandra refused to be drippy Enid for a moment longer. She'd spent a fortune buying a completely new wardrobe, mixing an array of vintage and designer pieces. She'd paid to get her hair chemically straightened, and invested in a full-coverage foundation that hid her freckles. She'd worked hard in the last couple of weeks leading up to the first semester and managed to lose those last few kilos that she felt had been holding her back. The result was incredible. She was no longer Enid Rollins, the daggy sidekick of the beautiful Elizabeth Wakefield. Alexandra Rollins was her own woman.

Fluffing her hair and giving her reflection one last look, Alexandra turned to walk out and almost slammed straight into Lila Fowler. If it had happened in high school, she would have shrunk back and tried to scurry around the wealthy fashion queen, but this wasn't high school. Lila barely stumbled in her five-inch Manolo's. "Alex!" she exclaimed. She placed her arm on the sleeve of Alex's billowing Neiman Marcus. "Thank God. I've been standing out there for the last half hour listening to Tina Choi and Alison Quinn wax lyrical about their spray tans."

Alexandra felt a rush of happiness, and the same mild shock she experienced from such a friendly greeting from the ice princess. She felt like it was something she wouldn't get over quickly. Rolling her eyes, she allowed Lila to tug her back towards the mirror so she could do emergency touch-ups. "Why do you think I'm in here, pretending to fix my eyeliner?"

Lila mimicked her expression, setting down her gorgeous Nicola Finetti clutch. "_Trés _boring."

Alexandra hummed her agreement. "So," she began. "Where's Bruce? Don't tell me he's abandoned you tonight."

"Unfortunately, he had to have dinner with the parents," Lila answered, stabbing her mascara wand back into the container. "But I'll see him tomorrow when he gets back."

"Is he staying at his old house?" Alexandra asked.

"No, his parents are in Prague at the moment," Lila replied. She ran her fingers through her hair, teasing the roots. "Bruce flew in two days ago, because his mother was complaining that she never gets to see him. And what Marie Patman wants, Marie Patman gets." Lila rolled her eyes.

Lila was one to talk. The only child of millionaire George Fowler, who had made his fortune on a computer chip business, she had never been denied a thing in her life. Even as Alexandra watched Lila put her makeup back into her clutch, she saw the silvery DIOR stamped on the side of her possessions. Her makeup probably cost more than the dress Alexandra was wearing, and she had saved for weeks to buy it.

Lila turned to leave. "We'd better get back out there. Jessica will be around somewhere."

"It's not nearly late enough for Jess to arrive," Alexandra joked.

They stepped out of the bathroom. "True," Lila conceded as they jostled past the shouting crowds of people. "But she's going with Elizabeth. There has to be some sort of happy medium for those two."

Alexandra caught sight of a halo of blonde hair near the bar. "Is that her?" she shouted over the music, indicating to Lila. Lila followed her line of vision and craned her neck over the sea of bodies.

The girl turned. It was Jessica. Alexandra eyed her lithe body with envy, watching as Jessica danced over to them with ease, smiling and laughing with shouting teens as she drew nearer. Alexandra reminded herself that she had no reason to be jealous of Jessica – after all, they were best friends now. It wasn't high school anymore. She wasn't drippy Enid, standing on the outside, looking in. She was the centre of the social circle now. Everything was fine.

Jessica stopped in front of them. "Isn't this great?" she shouted, leaning forward so that the girls could hear her. "Randy Mason might be a total dud of a date, but he sure knows how to throw a great party!"

Lila wrinkled her nose in true Lila fashion. "Fowler affairs are a hundred times better than this," she shot back. "I mean, sausage rolls and mini hot-dogs? Why doesn't he just give everyone an IV drip with a direct hook-up of fat into our veins? I mean, where are the canapés? Where are the miniature quiches?"

"Where is your inner teenager, Lila!" Jessica replied. "I don't want lobster bisque and expensive imported escargot. Give me chips and dip any day."

Alexandra sniffed. "You're lucky you were born with good genes and a fast metabolism, Jess, otherwise you'd be the size of a house by now."

Years ago, Alexandra couldn't have imagined speaking to Jessica Wakefield like that. She couldn't have imagined her taking it so well either. Jessica just laughed and sashayed off, making some excuse about seeing where Denise had gotten too. Lila excused herself as well, deciding to head out to the back courtyard to call Bruce. Alexandra was left alone, and before she could talk herself out of it, she headed towards the bar.

A recovering alcoholic, Alex knew the last place she should be was in front of a bar. But she actually felt that it helped; seeing all the inebriated and shocking drunks made her more resolute and determined than ever to never be that far gone again. For a while, she had had the perfect life. Noah Pearson, the shy and perfect Prince Charming who had helped her get over her break-up with Mark Gathers and her alcohol dependency, had been the centre of Alexandra's world, before their differences saw them splitting. Alex still thought about him wistfully, wondering whether he was doing the same about her, but she knew it was the right decision in the end. Noah had never been comfortable with her choice to leave Enid behind forever, and had urged her to embrace some of her old, homely traits. In the end, they had called it quits, and for a while, it had been really tough. Alexandra couldn't take more than a few steps out of her dorm without bursting into tears and running back in. But she was stronger now. She didn't need a guy.

She perched gracefully on a bar stool, tucking her long flowing train behind her knees. She hadn't been sure whether the light floral-patterned dress would be right for the party. At Sweet Valley University, your image was everything. Alexandra recalled the nervousness she felt when pledging the Theta's, unsure whether her shoes were right, or if she still hadn't lost enough weight to wear skimpy bandeaus to the Theta pool party. Getting into the sorority had been a major accomplishment.

"Hey! Alex!"

Alexandra jumped, and turned to her left where someone had shouted in her ear. Elizabeth Wakefield grinned back at her, and promptly took the seat next to her. "How have you been?" she continued.

Alex stared back at her, a smile forming on her lips. It was nice to hear Elizabeth say 'Alex', especially after she had protested the transformation so vehemently. "I've been good," she answered. "How about this party? Are you friends with Randy?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No more than you are," she replied. "I mean, I saw him a couple of times when he came round to take Jessica out, but that's about it. I haven't really had a conversation with him since grade school."

Alexandra leant back, and ordered a lemonade from the barman. Elizabeth requested the same thing, and they both sipped their drinks and surveyed the scene in front of them. A couple of seconds passed before Alexandra spoke.

"So, how are things with Tom?"

Elizabeth tensed visibly. "Not so good," she admitted. "We're not seeing each other anymore. Last I heard, he was dating Dana Upshaw again. They're planning on moving out together."

Alexandra was quiet. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Elizabeth said lightly. "We were on different wavelengths, anyway. I can focus on my studies now, without any distractions."

"Same," Alexandra responded. She raised her drink and bumped it with Elizabeth. "To being single and successful!"

Elizabeth repeated what she said, and then laughed. "Of course, I wouldn't say no to a devastatingly good-looking heir who wants to sweep me off my feet."

"I can't imagine anyone who would," Alexandra replied, also laughing.

They were still discussing potential husbands when the music abruptly cut off, and Randy Mason appeared on the small platform stage, clutching a beer. He swayed a little, but other than that, seemed to be fine. He stomped his foot a couple of times to get the attention of the crowd, and then he finally began to speak.

"Sweet Valley University!" he shouted, and the crowd whistled and cheered. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Randy Mason, and I am the reason for your good time tonight!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Well, he's certainly not the same Randy from grade school."

"Now, you're probably all wondering why I threw this little shindig," he continued. "Let me tell you, it's going to be the event of the year. When Sweet Valley University was first established, they had a tradition that they called the Murder Game. One person each year hosted the event and became the Caretaker of the game. This game hasn't been played in twenty years. This year, I am your Caretaker. And tonight, the Murder Game begins."


	3. Chapter 3

Jessica finished her latte with a flourish, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. "Well, I'm excited," she proclaimed, studying her long red talons. "We haven't had some excitement around Sweet Valley for ages. I can't believe Randy Mason is the one who's going to bring it, but I'll take anything at this point."

Denise leant forward, her eyes wide. "Winston is ridiculously excited," she admitted. "He keeps going on about how he's going to be the winner."

Lila barely contained her audible snort. "I have never heard of anything stupider than the Murder Game," she said. "And I went through the Theta initiation."

"You barely went through initiation," Alexandra chimed in. "You're a Fowler. As if they were going to put you through anything _that _bad."

"True," Lila preened, fluttering her expensively dyed lashes. "And, as a Fowler, I refuse to take part in this stupid game."

"No one is asking you to," Jessica shot at her.

"Plus, didn't you hear me?" Denise said jokingly. "Winnie is going to win this!"

Chloe Murphy raised her head from her orange juice with bleary eyes. "Excuse me," she interjected. "But what is the Murder Game?"

Lila turned to Chloe. "Where were you last night when Randy made that stupid announcement? He explained the whole stupid thing. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Jessica felt her annoyance brimming over. If Lila didn't want to play the game, it was fine with her, but she needed to learn when to shut her mouth. When Randy had made the announcement last night, Jessica had been with Neil, her best friend. They were standing near the podium, commenting and gossiping about different people in the crowd, when Randy had commanded everyone's attention. The moment he mentioned the word "Murder Game", Jessica's heart had skipped a beat. She was always up for adventure and excitement, and it sounded like the perfect way to spice up her life.

Chloe shrugged her slim shoulders. "I had some pre-drinks before I actually hit up the party. Around that time, I was already in the bathroom, heaving up the tequila."

Her comment was greeted by a chorus of groans. "Classy," Lila commented dryly.

"Well, can somebody explain it?" Chloe continued. "Softly, too, please. My poor head can't take it."

Jessica raised a hand for silence. "I've practically memorized his speech," she said. "So, the way Randy explained it was like this. Everybody in the university plays it, even if they don't know it. The aim is to kill as many people as possible."

"Because being a criminal is so hot right now," Lila interjected.

"Are you going to shut up?" Jessica exploded. "I'm trying to explain it. Anyway, so, you kill as many people as possible. A kill is basically some form of public humiliation. Once you've been killed, you can't play anymore. But for you to have been killed, other people have to know about it. Does that make sense?"

"No!" Lila sang out.

"It starts on Monday," Jessica continued animatedly. "If you want to play, you need to submit your name to the Caretaker... which is Randy. He said just to drop your name on a slip of paper into his campus mailbox. Once you complete a kill, you write theirs and your name down for the Caretaker so he can keep a proper tally. Creativity and maximum damage is taken into account. He decides whether they count as a hit, and at the end of the two weeks, a winner is decided."

"What does the winner get?" Chloe asked with interest.

"Fame and fortune," Denise intoned.

Jessica flapped her hand at her. "When you submit your name, you submit ten dollars as well. The winner gets all of the money at the end."

Alexandra whistled. "Not bad. So if fifty people submit their names..."

Jessica nodded. "Someone walks away with five hundred dollars."

"How are you supposed to prove that a hit was yours?" Lila asked. "That's a bit of a flaw in the game, don't you think? I mean, I could just walk around claiming credit for all of your kills, Jessica."

Jessica shrugged. "The Caretaker is supposed to know."

"Have you actually got anything planned yet, Jessica?" Alexandra asked.

"Let's just say Alison Quinn and Tina Choi are going to be my first victims," Jessica answered, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

They all laughed. "Are any of you guys going to play?" Lila asked.

"I'm in," Denise said, finishing her drink. "There were around three hundred people at that party. If even half of those people play, that's a lot of money. I could do with a couple of new things."

"Me, too," Alexandra chimed in. "I guess I'll play. What about you, Chloe?"

Chloe shook her head. "I'm not very creative. I don't think I could think up anything clever enough."

"Do you think Isabella will play?" Denise mused.

Jessica nodded. "She's always up for a good time," she said. "I don't see why she wouldn't. Where is she anyway?"

"She had a hair appointment this morning," Lila answered. "And she left early last night. She had to pick Danny up from something. I don't know."

"He had an interview for some apprenticeship, I think," Denise confirmed. "His car was in the shop."

"So, I guess we can assume that you're not going to be playing, Lila?" Alexandra asked. "So it will be just Jess, Denise, Izzy and me."

"I think we should make a pact right now to not kill each other," Jessica said quickly. "I don't want to have to watch my back the whole time we're together."

"Fine with me," Denise said. "And I wouldn't want to publicly humiliate any of you guys."

"You're so sweet, Denise," Lila said. "But I'd like to see any of you try to get one past me. I don't intend on playing, and I don't intend on being killed either."

"Why do you think they stopped playing it?" Alexandra said dreamily. "I mean, Randy said that it hadn't been played for ages. Why do you think they stopped? What happened?"

"Maybe the school board put a stop to it?" suggested Denise. "I doubt they would want publicity from a "Murder Game" going around."

Lila yawned. "Maybe they realised what a stupid idea it was."

Jessica leant her chin on the hands. "Maybe," she said dreamily. "All I can think about is winning five hundred dollars. That's a lot of shoes, you know."

"Not good quality shoes," Lila interjected. "Do you have any idea how much these Christian Louboutin's cost?" She extended a slim leg so everyone could admire the fiery red heels she was wearing. "Almost eight hundred dollars. Maybe you could put a down payment on a pair if you win, Jessica."

Jessica opened her mouth to retort, and Chloe stepped in quickly. "Whatever," she said, shooting them both nervous looks. "So should you guys go put your names in now?"

Jessica snapped her mouth shut, and settled back into her seat. She loved Lila, but the girl was the biggest pain in her backside. "I can't do it yet," she admitted. "I need to borrow ten dollars of Liz."

Everyone groaned. "Poor Liz!" Alexandra exclaimed.

"Do you think she'll play, Jess?" Chloe asked.

"I was with her last night when Randy was talking," Alexandra said. "She thought it was the stupidest idea she'd ever heard. So no. I don't think so."

"She might change her mind when she realises just how much prize money could be up for grabs," Jessica said. She grabbed Lila's cell phone, which was sitting on the table and peered at the time. "I need to head off soon if I'm going to catch Liz before she leaves the station. We need to discuss strategy."

"This is a rinky-dink university game, not World War Three," Lila said.

"I think we shouldn't bother going for kills outside of those playing unless they're easy," Jessica said animatedly. "We need to find out as many people as possible that are playing, and start eliminating the list."

"Good idea," Denise said. "And I have to ask... if we're not targeting each other, does that mean our partners can't either? I mean..." she blushed and looked away. "Winston probably won't listen to me if I say he can't kill any of you guys."

"Don't worry about controlling your pet," Jessica said dryly. "Winston was third on my list anyway."

They laughed, and Denise looked relieved. "I think that's a great idea," Alexandra said. "Should we share with each other who we're going to kill? Or divide up the list?"

"I think you guys are missing a pretty important detail," Lila said. "Assuming none of you are killed during the Game... what do you plan on doing? Sharing the prize money? You're going to have to kill each other at one point."

They were silent for a moment. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Jessica declared. "For now, we just need to get our hands on a list of competitors. We'll go from there."

They all stood from the table, Chloe slower than the rest. "Don't forget to drop your names in!" Denise reminded them. Jessica felt an uncomfortable stir in her stomach. If she missed out on the game of the century because she couldn't scrape together ten lousy bucks...

They piled out of the diner, and Jessica was barely watching where she was going. She distractedly ran her hands through her hair as she looked around. With an _ooof!_ she collided with what appeared to be her mirror image.

The blonde girl threw her hands up. "Jessica!" Elizabeth scolded mildly. "Watch where you're going!"

Jessica placed her hands on her twin's shoulders. "Liz!" she said urgently. "Can I borrow ten dollars?"


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth sighed, and slammed her Western Civ textbook shut. The noise echoed through the study carrels, and several students looked up in annoyance. Elizabeth coloured, and inched the book away from her slightly.

Nina Harper, her best friend, glanced up from her Russian Literature paper that she had been working on. "Given up already?" she murmured with a smile. She picked up a heavy book titled _18__th__ Century Russian Poems_ and flicked it open.

Elizabeth managed a wry grin. "Normally I can go for about five hours until the fatigue sets in," she answered. "But I'm just shattered today. Jessica kept me awake all night trying to discuss strategies and battle plans for the Murder Game."

Nina groaned, slapping her hands over her ears. "If I hear the words 'Murder Game' one more time, I will scream," she warned. "We're university students, not children. I can't believe some of the so-called adults on this campus are competing in something so stupid."

"I totally agree," Elizabeth replied. "But Jess did captivate my attention when she mentioned that the winner could be walking away with around five hundred dollars."

"It's still ridiculous," Nina declared, placing her nose firmly back into her book. "And I wouldn't be caught dead playing it."

Elizabeth stared out at the students in the library. "Well, I think there are quite a few people who are interested. Jess said when she went to submit her name she could barely squash it into Randy Mason's mailbox. It was that full. That's a lot of money."

"How do they know Randy isn't just going to pocket all of that money?" Nina wondered. "That would be the smart thing to do. Pretend it got stolen and just keep it all for yourself."

Elizabeth acted shocked. "Nina Harper! How devilish of you to suggest such a thing. I didn't know you had such a villainous streak."

Nina looked down at her book moodily. "I think all of this drab poetry is getting to me."

"Do you want to have a quick break?" Elizabeth asked, checking her slim gold watch. "I could go for something to eat."

Nina stood, sighing. "I guess so. But not for long, okay? The moment I start to distract myself, I never get back on task."

They left their books in the carrels and headed for the snack bar outside the library. Elizabeth shook her head and thought about Nina's last comment. She was easily the most studious person Elizabeth had ever met, but she was incredibly hard on herself. She studied her friend, noting how tired and weary she looked. _Nina probably hasn't had a good night's sleep for days,_ she thought.

As if on cue, Nina yawned. "I think I need a caffeine recharge," she said. "I was going to have this weekend off to spend with Bryan, but I changed my mind at the last minute. There's no way I could go watch a movie on a Saturday night, or spend my Sunday afternoon playing Frisbee in the park when I know there's a pile of homework on my desk, waiting for me."

They trudged up the steps towards Yum-Yums. "But you need some time off, Nina," Elizabeth argued. "Your GPA is fantastic, and you never score below an A. I think your last B- was in primary school."

"But I didn't get that way by having time off," Nina said simply, opening the glass door and letting Elizabeth step in front of her. "It's hard work, but it's what I have to do."

They continued to chat as they waited in line, mulling over the different culinary choices. Eventually when it got to their turn, Elizabeth ordered a warm chicken and salad wrap with a diet lemonade, whereas Nina chose a blueberry muffin, a slice of carrot cake and an extra-large cappuccino. They sat at the nearest table to wait for their order.

"I know you don't really want to talk about it," Elizabeth said. "But you must have some sort of interest in the Murder Game."

"I don't have the slightest interest," Nina disagreed. "I can think of a thousand different things I'd rather be discussing."

"Russian literature?" Elizabeth questioned, raising her eyebrow.

"I'd be happy to never hear those words again," Nina sighed. "Okay. What's got you so fascinated with this game?"

Elizabeth shrugged her slim shoulders. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just find it interesting. I mean, there's so much that Randy has left unanswered. Why did they stop playing it all those years ago? Why did Randy start it up again? It'd be really neat to research."

"Why don't you write an article on it?" Nina suggested. "That way you'll get it all out of your system."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "I don't know. I've only just cleared out my pigeon hole at the WSVU station. Do you think it's too early to start writing again?"

Nina stared at her. "Are you kidding? Liz, you left the television station for the print station. Eventually, you're going to have to write an article on something. Tom can just deal with the fact that you two aren't going to be star reporters together anymore. He knows that you're writing for the _Gazette_ now. It won't be a surprise when he gets a copy, flicks it open and sees that little by-line _Elizabeth Wakefield_ smiling up at him."

"Wow, Nina. Tell me how you really feel," Elizabeth answered, smiling at her friend. "I guess you're right, though. I'm just being stupid. I think I might write an article on it. But I'll have to be careful. I don't want to land anyone in trouble. I don't even know if the faculty are aware of it yet."

A woman brought them their orders, and the girls stood to leave. As they stepped out of the snack bar, a tall, lanky boy almost barrelled them over. "Winston!" Nina exclaimed. "Do you always bruise people as a greeting?"

Winston adjusted his glasses, his mop of hair flopping in his eyes. "Sorry," he panted, bending over and breathing in heavily. "I'm trying to get to the student centre before my next lecture. I might just skip it all together, though. Love, Eros and Truth was a terrible elective to pick."

Elizabeth snorted a laugh. "That'll teach you for trying to pick classes based on which ones will help you meet girls," she teased.

Winston puffed out his chest. "I already got my dream girl," he bragged. "Denise couldn't help herself. I'm only doing this elective to try and figure out how to make the other girls keep their hands off me."

Nina eyed him sceptically and tossed her braids over her shoulder. "Whatever you say, Winston."

"Why are you heading for the Student Centre, anyway?" Elizabeth asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Winston's eyes widened. "Haven't you heard? Randy posted up a list of the competitors in the Murder Game about an hour ago. If I could have left that lecture I was in, I would have, but the professor was already looking at me funny."

Nina rolled her eyes. "Not you as well, Winston!"

"Yep," Winston said. "I'm going to win all of that glorious prize money. I need a new set of roller blades. My old ones don't match my new spandex shorts."

"We'll come with you," Elizabeth volunteered, earning a dirty look from Nina. "I want to see who else signed up."

"I'll lead the way, Madams," Winston declared, breaking into some sort of half-jog towards the Centre. Elizabeth and Nina hurried to keep pace with him.

The Student Centre was almost completely empty. There were a couple of guys standing at the bulletin board, two girls taking advantage of the peace and quiet by setting up their study materials in an open room and an older woman sweeping the floor. Winston made a beeline for the bulletin board.

As Elizabeth and Nina followed him over, the two guys turned around. Elizabeth immediately recognized them as Joseph Goulbourne and Cameron Haze, Jessica's dud date. "Hi, Jessica," Cameron greeted her eagerly.

"I'm Elizabeth," she said politely. "Sorry, Cameron. Are you both checking out the Murder Game competitors?"

Cameron's face fell, and Joseph cut in. "Sure are," he said. "We plan on blitzing this thing, don't we, Cam?"

Cameron nodded, his eyes still trained on Elizabeth. "Say hi to Jessica for me, okay?" he said quietly, before inching past them and walking out of the centre. Joseph followed him.

"That was weird," Nina commented, staring after them. "Let me guess. Jessica turned him down?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't know the full story." She turned her attention to Winston. "How many people, Winnie?"

Winston turned, his eyes bulging. "One hundred and forty-six," he answered. "That's almost fifteen hundred dollars!"

"Wow," Nina said. "That sure is a lot of money. Who are some of the people competing?"

Winston checked the list. "Quite a few familiar faces," he reported. "Jessica Wakefield, Winston Egbert, Alexandra Rollins, Alison Quinn, Todd Wilkins, Kimberley Schuyler, Bruce Patman..."

"How the hell did he manage to get his name in?" Nina demanded. "He's still in Prague!"

"Maybe one of his frat buddies did it," Winston mused, still staring at the list. "Nearly all of the fraternity brothers are on this. Wait till Lila hears that her boyfriend is playing some dirty, common game. She might even break up with him for me."

"Easy, boy," Elizabeth cautioned, laughing. "Anyone else?"

Winston scanned the rest of the names. "Denise Waters, Isabella Ricci, Danny Wyatt..." his voice faltered for a second, and he turned to look at Elizabeth. "Liz! You sly dog. You never told me you were competing."

"Me?" Elizabeth said. "Of course I'm not."

Winston stepped back. "Well, you're on there," he reported, jabbing a finger at a name near the bottom.

Elizabeth's forehead creased into a frown, and she moved forward to scrutinize the paper. It said in small, typed letters, right near the bottom:

ELIZABETH WAKEFIELD.


	5. Chapter 5

Tom ran his fingers through his carefully gelled brown hair, his eyes staring blankly at the computer in front of him. He'd been sitting in front of the computer, drumming his fingers on the desk for the last half hour, but he still couldn't finish his script for the taping later that night.

"Come on, Watts," he muttered, picking up a piece of crumpled paper from his desk and tossing it on the keyboard. "Sum it up. Get out of here. Get a life."

"Talking to yourself, Tom?" a voice called from the doorway. Tom turned, and saw the smiling Angela Carter behind him. She held a stack of mail in her hands. "It's not healthy, you know."

"It's perfectly healthy," he grumbled. "And at least I know that I'll be partaking in some refined conversation."

"You're a real charmer, Watts," she laughed, leaning forward to slide the mail onto his desk. Tom tried to not stare down her low-cut shirt as she bent down, but it was almost impossible. Angela straightened up, flashed another smile in his direction and sauntered out of his office. Tom watched her walk away, the ghost of an appreciative smile on his lips. With her curly blonde hair, full curvy body and sparkling green eyes, she was undoubtedly a sexy woman. Tom could even see himself asking her out one of these days. But not today.

Because she wasn't Elizabeth.

He slowly lowered his head into his hands. "Stop it!" he told himself. "Stop thinking about her!" He raised his head and picked up the sheet of paper, and made his eyes focus. The first thing he saw was the name "ELIZABETH WAKEFIELD".

"Really?" he mumbled. His eyes scanned the sheet of paper, which was a list of the remaining competitors in 'The Murder Game'. He'd managed to convince Randy to work with him on this one, getting exclusive information and publicising the games on the campus television show. Randy had given him the newly narrowed down list that afternoon, and Tom had planned to put the update in that night's news segment.

He leant back in his chair, and minimized his Word Document window. As he brought up a game of solitaire, he thought back to the last three days, where the Murder Game had been running rampant. The campus had been bombarded with kills, some of them executed with crafty precision, whereas the others had much to be desired. The faculty had issued a warning that they were aware of the game, but that they didn't want the situation to escalate to vandalizing university property or illegal acts.

Tom snorted to himself as he clicked on the Queen card. The illegal acts part had only come up after Winston had eliminated Ethan Shaw from the competition by breaking into his dorm room and stealing his external hard drive. Copies of his browser history had been posted up on the Campus Website, which Winston had managed to hack into hours later. The less-than-savoury content had been deleted from the Sweet Valley University website within the hour, but not before the majority of the school had discovered it.

It had been one of the most memorable kills of the past few days. Winston had been on a roll, also knocking Marcy Jenner out by spilling cordial on her chair and staining the back of her jeans right before her presentation in Stats. Todd Wilkins had managed to eliminate four of the Sigma frat brothers in one hit; he'd put laxatives in the keg at their Monday night football party, and they'd been running to and from the bathroom all through the night and into the morning. Tom chuckled to himself as he recalled Peter Wilbourne passing out in the doorway of the toilets, from a mixture of inebriation and fatigue.

Tom opened the Microsoft Word window again and started to type. He mentioned some of his favourite kills so far, which included Bruce Patman's itching powder in the football team's shorts. The entire game had consisted of time-outs and several benches being made, due to the team's inability to run without jamming their hands back down their pants. Classic Bruce. He'd only been back from Prague for one day, but was already into the swing of things. He wondered how Lila felt about her boyfriend taking part in something she would have considered childish.

That being said, it wasn't just the guys who were blitzing the competition. Jessica Wakefield had had a couple of stunning kills so far. Tom's fingers flew over the keyboard as he described Kimberly Schuyler's embarrassing tumble at the frat party, due to Jessica manipulating her favourite pair of Jimmy Choo heels. Kimberley had tripped straight into the punchbowl, and crashed through the table. He added a warning to all other sorority girls, punctuating it with a line about how dangerous Jessica could be. He smiled smugly at his last line, picturing Jessica rolling her eyes when she saw the broadcast. He still couldn't resist a little dig at her, now and then.

One of the most surprising kills of the week had gone to Alison Quinn, who had almost immediately taken out her best friend Tina Choi hours into the competition. It was a tricky move; Tom knew that they now weren't talking, and had overheard Tina in the cafeteria earlier that day talking heatedly with Chloe Murphy about how Alison had to go down. Tom guessed that she was still smarting from her humiliating kill. Alison had managed to get a copy of Tina's answering machine tape, and had played a message where Todd Wilkins rang and asked her to please stop calling him over the PA on campus. Tom had gotten a copy to play on the broadcast later that night.

"Oh, and Tom?"

Angela ducked her head around the door. "This just arrived for you. Someone left it taped to the front door. Spooky, hey?" she rolled her eyes and wiggled her fingers. "Oooh!"

"Was that your version of a wailing ghost?" Tom teased, eyeing her appreciatively.

Angela smiled coyly and dropped her hands. "Shut up. I'll have you know that I've been getting straight A's in Dramatic Form all semester."

"Whatever," Tom dismissed her, snatching the letter from her hands. "I hope this isn't another love letter. I'm running out of places to put them in my dorm room."

"You're a real Romeo," Angela cooed.

"So you're going to need to stop writing them, Ange," he continued, ripping open the letter. "You might have to tell me how you feel in person instead of paper from now on."

"You wish," Angela called, disappearing out the door once again.

Tom laughed to himself as he pulled the letter out of the envelope. He was really considering asking her out. Maybe she wasn't Elizabeth, but wasn't that a good thing? That meant she wouldn't break his heart. He unfolded the letter and frowned. After skimming the contents, he read the letter aloud under his breath.

"_Want something really interesting for your stupid television show? Be at the Student Centre at five o'clock tomorrow. Don't be late. Make me famous."_

Tom let his breath out in a whoosh. "What the hell?" he mumbled, re-reading it. After a minute, he tossed it onto his desk and pushed it away. "Psycho."

He resumed his typing, and within minutes, had finished his prompt copy for that afternoon's broadcast. He hit a couple of keys and printed it, then stood and stretched. He caught site of his face in a hanging mirror by the bulletin board and winced. "You need to shave before you get on air, Watts," he told himself, reaching over and grabbing his printing.

Tom left his office and headed down the hall. He passed Ian Harrison, and handed him his papers. "Get this onto the teleprompter," he ordered. "I want to be ready to go in ten minutes." Ian nodded his head and scurried off. Tom felt a rush of pride swell in his gut. Everyone bowed down to him in the station. He was their God. It might have been an egotistical thought, but it was true.

As he headed back to his office, a wave of thoughts crashed in his head. Elizabeth sure didn't think he was a God. Dana Upshaw, another one of his girlfriends, had all but bowed down and adored him. She worshipped the ground he walked on. But that had gotten old. She was needy, constantly wanting him at her side and needing reaffirmations of his love. That was the whole reason they'd broken up: Tom couldn't bring himself to tell Dana that he loved her when he didn't. Who could love dog food when they'd experienced steak not so long ago?

His lip curled. "Stop thinking about Elizabeth," he ordered himself again. She wasn't worth it. There were plenty of girls just as good-looking, smart, funny and lively as she was on campus. He just had to find them. He walked back into his office and picked up the letter from his desk, staring at it. _Don't be late. Make me famous._

It was a weird letter, all right. But Tom had followed weirder leads on less information. Who knows? Maybe it would turn out to be something worthwhile. Maybe it was from a secret admirer. Maybe Angela had written it.

There was only one way to find out. Tom rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully, and tucked the letter into the back pocket of his tight jeans. He'd be there at five o'clock tomorrow night, on the dot. He just wondered who else would be there, too.


	6. Chapter 6

"Honestly, Denise," Lila was saying. "I mean, I understand personal taste and everything, but a Theta has a certain reputation to uphold."

"Your point, being?" Denise answered dryly, blowing on her freshly painted nails. Isabella pursed her lips and slowly rolled the bottle of _Luxe Lilac_ around in her palm. "Sorry, Izzy. I'll try to sit still."

Lila waved a copy of _Ingenue_ in the air. "Just take a look at this. The girl on page twelve in the style section is wearing a gorgeous little teal coloured silk shirt, and a high waisted black bubble skirt. Look at the detailing on the waistband – I mean, that sort of embroidery is trés chic these days. You're an events management major. You need to be wearing these kinds of things!"

Denise glanced at the page while trying to keep still. "That skirt alone costs almost three hundred dollars, Li. Besides, I'm only studying. No one dresses up for classes." She swept her hands over her stonewashed jeans and colourful gypsy blouse. "I'm in the majority."

Lila raised an eyebrow and silently looked down at herself. Jessica had to admit, the empire-waist mauve-coloured dress and the intricate woven leather sandals were gorgeous, but way too dressy for an everyday look, in her opinion. Jessica herself only wore a floral-print maxi, and a pair of simple black peep-toe flats.

They had been sitting in the Theta house lounge room for almost an hour, under the guise of studying. What they were really doing was receiving manicures and pedicures from Isabella, and discussing the latest kills in the Murder Game.

"Anyway," Jessica interrupted. "The only reason I brought up what Casey Fuller and Justine DiLeone were wearing this morning is because it got totally ruined."

"Good," Lila murmured, flipping through her magazine. "That hideous monogrammed tote Justine matches with everything had to go. Maybe it was a kill from the fashion gods."

Alexandra swatted Lila lightly on the arm. "Tell me Casey was wearing her ridiculously expensive coat from Mimco."

"With the matching beret," Jessica confirmed gleefully. "One of the frat boys ambushed them on the quad this morning. Joseph whats-his-name, I think. Anyway, he tossed dozens of water balloons at them. That suede coat is history."

"Wouldn't have mattered if she was wearing jeans!" Denise sang out.

"Even though Casey and Justine aren't our friends," Jessica said, "we have to retaliate. More sorority girls have been killed then frat boys. This is about evening the ratio."

"Agreed," Alexandra chimed in. "Although some of the sorority girls are responsible for some of our own being killed."

Jessica grinned. "Ladies, you have no idea. The best kill is still yet to come. Does everyone recall a certain walking coat-hanger talking about her big date with Zachary Machamp, journalist and mini-celebrity?"

"Who hasn't heard," Denise grumbled. "Alison is a walking microphone." She cupped her hands around her mouth and said in a deep voice, "Has _everyone_ heard about my _date_? We met in line for _mochacchinos, _and he gave me the _last_ packet of _sugar!_ It was _love_ at first _sight!_"

Isabella capped her polish and tossed it into her kit. "You do that surprisingly well, Denise. And I'd hardly call him a celebrity. He's practically a gossip columnist. Even the title 'journalist' is rich."

"Well, we've established we've all heard of him," Lila said wryly.

"And if we know Alison, which we do, what do we think she'd be doing right about now?" Jessica said, indicating to the clock on the mantelpiece.

Alex turned to stare at the time, and she let her breath out in a _whoosh._ "It's almost four 'o' clock. He's picking her up around six-thirty, right? I'd say she's picking her outfit."

"Na-uh," Denise disagreed, shaking her head. "She's shaving her face."

"Bathing in the blood of seventy young virgins?" Lila intoned, wiggling her eyebrows up and down comically. Isabella shook with laughter as she tried to open her bottle of top coat.

"You're all wrong!" Jessica said triumphantly. "She'd be washing her hair."

They went silent for a moment. "You didn't do anything too drastic, did you, Jess?" Denise said finally. "I mean, you don't want to have to keep watching your back. You have to sleep some time."

"Was it the old Nair in the shampoo trick?" Lila asked, clapping her hands together.

Jessica preened, pretending to buff her nails on her bare shoulders. Isabella frowned and swatted her hands back down. "I guess you girls will have to wait and see. But let me tell you, it's going to be the talk of the campus."

"Did you guys see Tom's broadcast last night?" Alex asked. "Talk about cocky! I don't know what your sister ever saw in him, Jess. Boy has a real ego."

"Tell me about it," Jess answered, rolling her eyes.

Lila smiled and tucked her legs underneath her. "You're still smarting because he made you out into such a villain last night!"

"Hey, I'm happy to take all the publicity I can get!" Jess protested. "At least the rest of the contestants will see me as a real threat now."

"Or a target," Denise commented. "You should just try what I'm doing. I'm laying low for a while, and then I'll strike when there's not so many people left."

"Bo-rriing!" Jessica sang.

Isabella finished Denise's nails with a flourish, and she began to pack up her kit. "Have you guys seen Chloe anywhere? Girl was a mess the other morning. She might have even gotten alcohol poisoning, you know."

"How passé," Lila commented.

"I haven't seen her since that morning," Alex replied. "I'm sure she's fine. She's a cat. Always lands on her feet."

"But Chloe is usually ringing us every ten seconds to find out where we are," Isabella pointed out. "I mean, hey, don't get me wrong. I'm loving that she's finally cutting the cord between us. There's only so much Chloe you can take."

"I thought you liked Chloe?" Denise said mildly, studying her manicure.

"I did. I do. We all do. But you have to admit, she can be really needy when she wants to be. It's just weird that she hasn't even checked in with us when she normally needs reassurance just to leave her room."

Suddenly, a scream tore through the echo-ey house. Denise clasped her hand to her chest as if she'd been shot, and Isabella jumped about a foot in the air. Jessica, on the other hand, darted to her feet, and was on the move in seconds.

"That might be my cue to leave," she said, pressing a finger to her lips. A door slammed down the hallway, and a familiar voice shrieked, "JESSICA!"

Jessica slipped out the front door, and waited in the garden area, peering through an open window. She watched gleefully as a stringy, green-haired Alison came storming into the Theta parlour. Her friends shook with laughter as Alison screamed the house down. Jessica tiptoed off, waiting till she was safely out of earshot before breaking into jog. She had to be home soon anyway – she'd told Elizabeth that she'd start dinner, as her study group wouldn't break up till well after five.

As she dashed along Sorority Row, she kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. She felt as if she was becoming a spy. She'd become suspicious of every little movement or sound. It struck her just how badly she wanted to win this thing. She imagined Elizabeth rolling her eyes at this statement. Jessica reached her car and fished in her handbag for her keys, trying to do it and keep moving at the same time. She didn't want to stand still long enough for anything to happen. Joseph wasn't all that intelligent, and he was probably the type to repeat his kills.

"This kill is going to go down in history!" she crowed to herself when she was buckled into her car. Screeching down the street, she pushed a CD into the player and skipped ahead to her favourite song. Singing along, she thought about Elizabeth and how she'd managed to escape relatively unscathed in the past couple of days. Jessica had stayed in Denise's room the night before, and Alison had tried to sneak in a cut off some of her hair. Jessica had awoken just in time, and kicked her in the knee. Alison had scurried out, the long silver pair of scissors gleaming in her hands.

Elizabeth had sworn up and down that she hadn't entered herself, and Jessica was inclined to believe her. No one had even tried to kill her, whereas Jessica had already been the subject of three intended kills. Elizabeth had either played the role of unwilling participant extremely well and had succeeded in not drawing attention to herself, or she genuinely had no interest in the game. But if she hadn't entered herself into the Murder Game, then who had?


	7. Chapter 7

"Elizabeth, could you give me a hand, please?" Nina requested. She pointed to the desks and placed her hands underneath the closest one. "These need to go back into that U-formation."

Elizabeth finished shoving her spiral notebook into her backpack and tossed her pencil case on top. She'd been working on her assessment for Popular Fiction for almost two hours, and her eyes were beginning to blur. The other members of their study group had left ten or fifteen minutes ago to grab pizza for dinner, but Elizabeth had decided to stay a little while longer. Nina hadn't even bothered to give an excuse; she'd simply raised an eyebrow and looked back down at the four-thousand word thesis on Joseph Conrad's _Heart of Darkness._

"Are you almost finished?" Elizabeth asked as she hauled a table across the room.

"I've finished my preliminary research," Nina replied. "It won't take me long to write."

Elizabeth yawned. "Well, I'm beat. I'm planning on vegging out the second I get back to the duplex. Sam better have cleaned up his beer can pyramid. Jess told me she could barely see _The Young and the Beautiful_ over the top of the tabs last night."

Nina scoffed. "What a surprise. Sam makes me the mess, and Jess will complain about it, yet she won't do anything."

Elizabeth felt the uncomfortable prickle in her stomach that she usually got whenever Nina insulted her sister, which was often. "It's Sam's mess in the first place," she protested.

Nina shrugged and dropped the last chair into place. "Whatever. You're too nice, Liz. I would have murdered Sam in his sleep by now, if I had any proof other than your word and Jess's whinging. I never catch him; you've always cleaned it up by the time I get home."

"You can do it in real life, if you like," Elizabeth joked as she swung her backpack over her shoulder. Nina did the same and they strolled out the door. "The Murder Game could extend to OCC as well."

"I wouldn't have a clue how to publically humiliate someone," Nina admitted ruefully. "The most embarrassing thing I can think of is failing as class and having everyone know about it. Even getting a C would make me cry."

"Sam would probably be embarrassed to get above a C," Elizabeth laughed.

The girls continued to laugh and joke as they made their way out of the student centre. As they rounded a corner, Elizabeth turned fully to Nina so she could see her 'Sam-cleaning-dishes' impersonation and collided with a burly figure hurrying in the opposite direction. Elizabeth let out an '_oof!'_ and fell backwards, landing squarely on her back.

"Watch where you're - oh, jeez, Liz, are you okay?"

Elizabeth looked up into the concerned face of Tom Watts. He bent down and offered his hand, and Elizabeth grudgingly took it. He pulled her to her feet, and spun her round to check she wasn't hurt. "Is anything broken? Do you feel okay?"

"Tom, you knocked into her," Nina said dryly. "You didn't run her over with your car."  
>Tom let go of the hem of Elizabeth's SVU sweatshirt and stepped back, his hands up defensively. "I was just checking to make sure she wasn't hurt," he answered. "Is there something wrong with caring?" He looked Elizabeth up and down appreciatively.<p>

"No, but there's something wrong with staring," Nina shot back. "Come on, Liz."

Elizabeth averted her gaze as they skirted around Tom, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. "See you later, Elizabeth," he called.

"Yeah," Elizabeth responded half-heartedly.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Nina smacked Elizabeth on the arm. "Liz! What happened to the feminist I know and love?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Nina exploded, "Why did you let him help you up! You should have been chewing him out for even knocking you down."  
>"It's not worth it," Elizabeth sighed. "Besides, all he did was help me up. It's not liked he rescued me from drowning in a river, Nina. I wasn't a complete damsel in distress."<p>

Nina groaned. "I know. I just can't stand him. He walks around like he's a God on campus."

"Instead of just a minor deity," Elizabeth joked.

Nina glanced over her shoulder. "What do you think he's going into the Student Centre at this time for?"

"Who knows," Elizabeth responded. They crossed the Quad, threading their way through the sparse students dotting the grass and passed the old dorms that they used to live in. Elizabeth looked up at the old brick buildings wistfully. "Do you miss living in the dorms, Nina?"

Nina shook her head emphatically and hugged her Indian-inspired fringe satchel closer to her body. "Are you kidding me? Community bathrooms, nightmare roommates... even living with Sam beats living in dorms like Dickenson."

Elizabeth smiled. As they stepped off the grass and back onto the pavement, they heard a thud, and a scream. Her survival instincts kicked in, and Elizabeth leapt up and tackled Nina to the ground, keeping her friend's body protected by her own. Several students around her shouted in panic. Elizabeth recognized Magda Helperin, the president of Jessica's sorority, tossing her books on the ground and dropping to the grass. Tina Choi and Kimberly Schuyler, two of Alison's cronies, screamed.

Elizabeth peeked up through her tousled blonde hair. She surveyed the scene quickly, her heart thudding uncontrollably in her chest. Below her, Nina squirmed. "Liz, what happened?" she said urgently. "Was someone shot?"

Elizabeth finally saw the cause of the commotion, and groaned. Rolling off Nina, she climbed to her feet and pointed towards the centre of the Quad, illuminated by the lamppost lights. "Yeah," she said angrily. "Someone was shot. With a _freaking_ paintball gun."  
>Nina crawled towards her satchel and hoisted herself up. "What?"<p>

"Over there," Elizabeth gestured. "Angela whats-her-name. One of the girls who works at WSVU. Someone got her."

Angela's two friends were frantically examining her, exclaiming angrily and spinning around in circles, trying to find the culprit. Angela sniffled to herself, trying very obviously to keep her composure as she looked down at her ruined coat. The red paint was splattered all over the front of her camel-coloured trench, staining her outerwear and her striped tunic underneath. "Jeez," Nina said softly. "It looks like blood."

Elizabeth scanned high up, and spotted a familiar face ducking behind Dickenson Hall. "Another kill for the fraternity," she said.

"Who did it?" Nina asked.

"I can't remember his name," Elizabeth responded. "I'm pretty sure he took Jess out one night, though."

"Fantastic," Nina answered. "So almost anyone with a pulse."

Elizabeth waggled her finger in Nina's face. Now that she'd gotten over her initial shock at the hit, she felt a little more at ease. "Be nice."

Angela's friends slung their arms around her shoulders to shield her from any other possible attacks, and they started to make their way across the quad towards Dickenson Hall.

"Who even owns a paintball gun," Elizabeth muttered. "What a stupid, stupid game."  
>"You should know," Nina teased as they started on their way towards the duplex. "You're playing it, right?"<p>

Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation. "For the hundredth time, I did not put my name in for the Murder Game! I have no idea who would do such an immature thing."

"I thought hyperbole was a more Jessica trait," Nina commented. "And that's not true, little Lizzie. We both know plenty of immature people who would find that funny. Hell, Jess could have even put your name in."

"She wouldn't do that," Elizabeth said automatically. "She knew how stupid I thought the whole thing was." A little niggling feeling settled in her stomach; Jessica had done things like that before.

"If you say so," Nina answered.

They spoke about their shared literature class for the rest of the walk, and it was pleasantly uneventful. As they walked through their front door, Nina swore under her breath. "Of course, every light in the house is on. Every room! I pay electricity as well - where is Sam? Sam! Turn some of the damn lights off!"

Elizabeth cringed. As much as she loved Nina, and knew how much of a slacker Sam was, even she thought she took the dramatics a little too far. Funny that Nina claimed to find Jessica's theatrics so irritating when they had some similar traits and mannerisms.

Sam was lying in front of the television, and Elizabeth was relieved to see the beer can pyramid was gone. He responded to Nina's question by belching loudly and flopping onto his back to stare up at them as they peered over the couch. He locked eyes with Elizabeth and held her gaze. She was annoyed that her first thought was about how sweet he looked in his collared shirt, with his blondish hair cut long and in his eyes.

"Nina, always a pleasure to see you," he rumbled. "Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I'm not always the bad guy?" He waved his arm lazily in the direction of the kitchen. "Jess is making dinner or something. She's been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Apparently she's misplaced the funnel."

Nina rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. She turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen. "I'll go get the fast food menus."

Elizabeth looked back down at Sam. He met her gaze, and she racked her brains for something to say. "Has Neil been telling you about the Murder Game?"

Sam rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "Is that the reason why Jess was funnelling bleach into a conditioner bottle earlier?"

"To be honest, that could be something else entirely," Elizabeth answered. Sam tittered and turned his attention back to the TV. Elizabeth stood their awkwardly for a couple of seconds before taking a few steps back. As she turned to walk away, he called out, "Where are you going, Liz? Come watch TV with me. It'll be at least another fifteen minutes before Jess burns down the kitchen and Nina manages to blame it on me."

"Fifteen minutes is a little generous," Elizabeth shot back. She crossed the room and lowered herself into one of the little lounges Neil had picked up at a garage sale in Palisades. She expected Sam to completely ignore her and continue watching the television, but he picked up the remote and lowered the volume a couple of notches. "So. The Murder Game. Are you and Neil competing?"

"Techically, no," Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, I don't think Neil is. He's giving Jess a hand with some of her kills, but when she suggested he put his name in too, he laughed for about ten minutes straight."

"What does not technically competing entail?" Sam inquired, running his hand through his messy hair.

"I didn't put my name in," Elizabeth explained. "But when the list came out, I was on it."

"Whoa," Sam said, sitting up straight. "Someone put your name in? Do you know who?"

"Nina seems to think it's Jess, but I honestly don't think it would even cross her mind to enter me," Elizabeth answered. "She wants to eliminate the competition, not create it."

"That's not right, Liz," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "I really don't like the sound of that."

"Well, on the upside, I'm not going to be completing any kills," Elizabeth said. "And in the end, I could win a heap of money."

"Yeah, but that makes you a target," Sam pointed out. "Look, cancel your personal study for tonight, Liz."

"I wasn't going to study," Elizabeth replied, stung. "Why do you presume that? I might have been about to go out to a frat party!"

Sam scoffed. "You weren't going to study, Liz? Yeah, right. Just like how I wasn't planning on lying in front of the television shovelling nachos into my face until Bugsy finishes work and then playing Call of Duty till three A.M."

Elizabeth stayed silent, glaring at him.

"Don't feel bad. It's just who you are. I'd put money on the fact that Jess planned on screwing up dinner then taking off to Starlights with Lila and the rest of the Bitch Brigade. Neil will go to the gym, finish writing an Econ paper, get drunk dialled by Jess and go and pick her up around two in the morning. And Nina will lock herself in her cave and brainstorm ways to make my life more miserable while sleeping on her own beard."

Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from laughing. "Okay. But I seriously wasn't planning on studying."

Sam rolled his eyes and stood. "Good. You can cancel your plans of nothing then."  
>"Where are we going?"<p>

He grabbed her hand without warning and pulled her up. "Back to campus. We're going to take another look at the Murder Game competitor list."


	8. Chapter 8

Tom cursed under his breath as he jogged back towards the Student Centre. He'd been inside the student centre for all of five minutes before his cell phone had started to ring. It was Angela.

"_To-o-m_!" she blubbered, and before he'd gotten anything else out of her, she'd immediately broken down crying.

"Angela?" he questioned. "Is that you? What's wrong?"

He'd heard a scratching sound, like the phone being passed to someone else with a shaky hand, and then a voice said brusquely, "Tom? Tom Watts?"

"Who's asking?" he said.

"This is Claire Beaumont," a female voice asserted. "Angela's friend. Listen, do you have the key to the news station?"

Tom absent-mindedly patted his pockets. "Yeah, I do."

"Great. We're going to need to borrow them. Can you meet us behind the Quad?"

"Slow down. Why do you need my keys?"

"Angela needs to change her clothes. I don't want to get into specifics with you now."

Tom scoffed slightly. "I'm going to need a little more than that to be convinced that my presence is definitely necessary. I'm a busy guy, you know."

"Are you deaf, Tom Watts?" Claire asked heatedly. "Can you hear Angela wailing like a banshee? Why would I call you if we didn't need you?"

Tom looked around furtively; he wasn't competing in the Murder Game, but what if someone had thought it would be fun to kill the reporter covering the story?

"This can't wait?"

"No," Claire said firmly. Angela kicked up the sobbing a notch, and Tom pulled the phone away from his ear, wincing.

"What's wrong with her, anyway?"

A choking sound issued from the receiver, and Tom had the impression that Claire was trying very hard not to laugh. "You'll see. Hurry up." She hung up.

He'd ambled down the Quad warily, expecting to be doused in cold water, or crash tackled from behind and forced into a dress, but no one even acknowledged his presence until he got in sight of Angela and her friend Claire, who was tapping her foot impatiently. Angela was covered in blood.

"Oh, my God, Angela!" Tom cried, hurrying forward. "What happened?" He rounded on Claire. "Why didn't you tell me she'd been hurt over the phone?"

"Calm down, Ace Ventura," Claire said dryly. "It's paint. Someone shot her with a paintball gun as we were walking along the Quad."

Angela sniffed. "I don't want to get in my car and go home and get the interior covered in paint," she explained. "Can I just use the keys and shower at the station?"

Tom screwed up his face. "Can't you go back to a friend's dorm and shower there?" he asked, jerking his head towards Claire.

Claire shook her head. "I've lost my key and haven't had a chance to duplicate it yet. Anyway, I've got another class in a couple of minutes, and my roommate has the same class, so she won't be able to let Angela in."

"Kate would have let me into her sorority house to take a shower on her way to dinner," Angela said plaintively, "but someone put bleach into a shampoo bottle and - and - and it's not safe, and -" she broke off, beginning to hiccough and sob again. "I don't want green hair _and_ red skin!"

Tom stepped back in alarm as Angela opened her arms for a shuddering hug. "Well, your coat is ruined," he stuttered, trying to think of something to distract her. Instead, he propelled her forward and they began to walk towards the station.

Claire made a contemptuous noise in the back of her throat. "It's my coat," she informed him. "I'm pretty sure the kill was meant for me - Angela isn't even playing the game. If it was aimed at me, it was definitely Derek Bode from Sigma - we just broke up a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh," Tom said, deeply uninterested.

"I found out he'd taken one of the Wakefield's out on a date," Claire glowered. "So I told him where he could shove it."

"Not Liz?" Tom asked, perturbed.

"No, not the boring one," Claire spat. "The one who doesn't consider her week over until she's broken up at least four relationships."

"Good," Tom said, visibly relieved. Behind him, Angela started to sniffle again.

"What do you care, though?" Claire demanded. "I thought you were dating Dana Upshaw."

Tom stared at her. "How do you know that?"

Claire shrugged. "You're a BMOC, right?"

Tom stiffened his spine and ran a hand through his hair, smiling slightly. "Yeah, I guess I am a Big Man on Campus."

"That would be Big Mouth on Campus," Claire interjected. "I don't know how I know it, I would have assumed it to be common knowledge, even though I don't think I've seen the two of you together for a while. I've seen her around campus - she's always lugging that cello and shaking her hair back like she's in a Pantene ad."

"We're not dating anymore," he muttered under his breath. "We broke up a little while ago."

"Why do people still seem to think you're dating?" Claire said curiously. They had almost reached the station.

Tom pulled his keys out of his pocket, his fingertips running over the jagged edges. His hand closed over a smooth keychain attached to his dorm key - a silver-plated love heart Liz had bought for him on their six-month anniversary. He'd dropped it accidentally at her dorm room door back when she lived in Dickenson Hall, and had tried to jam the door closed around it, unaware that it was lodged in the frame. The heart had a little dent on the side, which was appropriate now.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

Angela snorted through her tears. "He still tells people they're dating in the hopes it will get back to Liz and she'll be jealous," she said.

"Well, that's stupid," Claire commented. "She's got too much - too much - _integrity _and _moral fiber_ -" she shuddered, "-to go after a guy whose apparently moving in with his girlfriend."

"Thank you, doctors, but I think that's all we have time for today," he sniped. "I'm doing just fine without Elizabeth _and_ Dana, thank you very much." They climbed the steps and Tom unlocked the door. "Here's where I leave you."

He let Angela in and she turned back towards him as she stepped over the threshold. "Thanks, Tom," she said softly. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," he said gruffly. Even though she could be a bit of a ditz and a pain, he did have a soft spot for Angela. Her friend, on the other hand, he would be glad to never talk to again. He unhooked the station key from his full set and tossed it to her. "Lock up when you're done. I'll get it off you tomorrow."

He turned and started to walk away in the direction of the Student Centre. Checking his watch, he saw that he was almost twenty minutes late now. He swore under his breath and broke into a light jog. If he missed a good scoop because of Claire and Angela, and someone like Scott Sinclair from the paper got there first, he would never forgive himself. A real journalist wouldn't have let a little thing like feelings and crying girls get in the way of a good story.

He skidded to a walk as he rounded the corner of the Student Centre. His heart leapt when he heard voices coming from inside the centre, and he felt his pulse racing, like it usually did when he had a feeling he was onto a good story. He slipped inside the doors, his hands jammed in his pockets as he nervously fingered the little love heart keychain.

"Hello," he called, starting forward. "Who's here?"

The voices stopped abruptly, and he halted, uncertain.

He tried again. "Where are you?"

There was a low murmur, and Tom spun to his left, heading for a couple of the closed rooms. He hurried along the corridor, and saw some light filtering out from underneath a closed door. As he got closer, the voices, low and urgent, amplified. He patted his pockets, looking for his iPhone, in case he needed to fire off some rapid shots, or record something. Steeling himself, he placed his hand on the door handle and pushed.

He didn't know who looked more shocked. Him, standing there, his arms hanging at his sides, his eyebrows shooting up and disappearing into his hairline, or Sam Burgess and Elizabeth, frozen. Sam had his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, and she was stooped slightly, her hand over her mouth. When they saw him burst through the door, she straightened up and jerked away from Sam, her mouth hanging open. "Tom!" she blurted out.

She moved slightly, as if to cover something, and Tom's eyes strayed to the open cupboard they were standing in front of. "Oh, my God, Liz! What have you done?"

Elizabeth shook her head manically, trying valiantly to shield Tom from the body stuffed into the utility cupboard. Tom strode forward, and not even Sam tried to stop him. He craned his neck over Elizabeth's shoulder, and stared straight into the cold, dead eyes of Cameron Haze.


End file.
